


Just an Afterthought

by ABookAndACoffee



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/M, Healing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABookAndACoffee/pseuds/ABookAndACoffee
Summary: Nesta and Cassian venture into the human lands where they encounter Tomas Mandray.Nesta would have just as soon skipped that step, gone through a more democratic process that forced those families, the ones who had shunned her in her poverty and showered her with compliments during her wealth, to make decisions together with those who lived a different kind of life. One in the woods, in shacks like where she had grown, wondering when she would eat next. Wonderingwhat she would eat was a luxury, and the people she and Cassian were going to see had no idea what that kind of life was like. Yet they would be the ones making decisions for the rest of the humans.One could say that Nesta was predisposed to be cranky.





	Just an Afterthought

Nesta smoothed over the skirt of her dress as she stepped out of the carriage. It was a human movement, there being something mortal in the concern over how she might appear in front of people whom she could dispatch with a snap of her fingers. But before they left on this trip, Cassian had reminded her that they weren’t there to intimidate.  
  
This was Nesta’s first trip as an emissary to the human world, to attempt to repair the relationship between the human and fae lands, and she would not be the one who ruined this alliance.  
  
The first step was to arrive in a manner that might be… less terrifying, to those beings in the world who didn’t have the benefit of wings and magical powers. Nesta liked horses and didn’t mind taking a carriage, though it was a damn sight slower than she remembered from when she was human.  
  
Cassian held his hand out for Nesta to take, which she did reflexively. Nothing about his roughness could be smoothed out for this trip, and Nesta didn’t want it otherwise. The hair along his jaw had been trimmed neatly, and the long curls that she liked to run her fingers through had been tamed into a leather strap. His siphons were gleaming, a reminder to anyone who might underestimate them. Stories followed Nesta like shadows, and anyone who recognized her knew everything she had done in the war, and beyond.  
  
The second step was to meet with those influential families who, through industry and exploitation of others, had managed to remain wealthy, despite being cut off from the fae lands.  
  
Nesta would have just as soon skipped that step, gone through a more democratic process that forced those families, the ones who had shunned her in her poverty and showered her with compliments during her wealth, to make decisions together with those who lived a different kind of life. One in the woods, in shacks like where she had grown, wondering when she would eat next. Wondering _what_ she would eat was a luxury, and the people she and Cassian were going to see had no idea what that kind of life was like. Yet they would be the ones making decisions for the rest of the humans.  
  
One could say that Nesta was predisposed to be cranky.  
  
The meeting was taking place in the house of a man who considered himself a Lord and spoke to everyone as if they labored under the same assumption, which is to say he spoke to them with disdain. Nesta was familiar with him as a young man, though that had now been decades ago. On entering the house, she looked for the man who regarded everyone from the end of his nose, but quickly realized that the room was too full of men like that to pick one out.  
  
Cassian whispered in Nesta’s ear, something about tension and her face, but she continued to scan the room. Best to be prepared.  
  
They came to the entrance of the ballroom and Cassian handed a card to the footman there.  
  
“Cassian and Nesta Archeron,” the man announced. A hush came over the room and all eyes were on them. The sister of a High Lady and the killer of a tyrant king was in their midst. It was doubtless the most excitement many of them had seen in months. And there - there was her Illyrian husband, the one said to have faced the demon Bryaxis and come out alive.  
  
They entered the room, Nesta being guided by Cassian’s hand underneath her own. They moved immediately to the front of the queue to owner of the house. They weren’t there to waste time.  
  
The man turned to them, one Mr. Rothschild, breaking off mid-conversation with someone of lesser importance.  
  
“Ms. Archeron, I heard your name announced. I’m so glad to see that you didn’t change your mind about coming.”  
  
Nesta raised her hand for him to take, and spoke as he leaned to kiss it. “I wouldn’t miss it, Mr Rothschild. All of the other courts are being represented, and the Night Court has special connections to the human lands. We want to see these lands flourish, even if its current leadership leaves something to be desired.”  
  
Cassian cleared his throat next to Nesta.  
  
Rothschild turned to Cassian, waiting for him to lower his head. When the reasonable moment for that passed, Rothschild held out his hand, which Cassian gripped heartily.  
  
“We’re glad to come, to start these proceedings. My wife has told me about the generosity so many of you showed her family when they were going through hard times here. I, myself, know the generosity of the High Lord and Lady, and am glad that Nesta had the benefit of such aid growing up here.”  
  
Yes, their words were laced with sarcasm and bitterness. But let it not be said that the pompous humans who prospered on the backs of others were ever able to discern the meanings in a double entendre.  
  
“Yes,” Rothschild said absently. “I’m sure we will all have a good talk.” He looked to Nesta. “And I believe you might know my son-in-law, Mr. Mandray?”  
  
There were several Mandray boys. Or men, rather. Of course the one inserting himself into such an important occasion would be Tomas. The man who stepped from behind Mr. Rothschild was nothing like what Nesta remembered. He had become slack, loose where he had been full of energy and vibrance, his hair streaked with gray.  
  
Nesta lowered her head so slightly towards Tomas that it was nearly imperceptible. Cassian placed a hand on the small of her back.  
  
The usual pleasantries were made, and Cassian made their excuses to find a drink of water.  
  
Her head spun, and Nesta was so, so angry with herself. It had been years since she had encountered Tomas, since she’d broken off their engagement. The anger and fear were relics of a different life, so why did they haunt her the second that his name was spoken aloud? And then worse, to see him, to watch him come into contact with Cassian…  
  
Feyre’s words to her all those years ago rang in her ears. _His father beats his wife, and none of his sons do anything to stop it._ Nesta had rationalized the warning away. How could Tomas, a young man, dare raise a hand against his father? There must have been some reason for his fathers’ actions, they must not have been as bad as Feyre made it sound. Surely Tomas was afraid, and should be pitied.  
  
Nesta learned much later that there need be no reason for men to be cruel, nor need for Feyre to have exaggerated that cruelty.  
  
The day she had gone to see him, she hadn’t told Elain or her father. Feyre was already long gone, but Nesta wouldn’t have told her, anyway. So Nesta made that trek alone, to speak with the man she loved, in secret. It was something she had all to herself, and something she was not likely to do, which was how Tomas had been able to tempt her to it. Damn everyone and their expectations of her. Sneaking off to see her fiancé - whom she loved - was maybe the last thing she would do, not being of a particularly romantic disposition, but she could.  
  
Tomas had told her to come to a rear door, one that usually admitted servants and the like. Once inside, he had ushered her to a back sitting room, one she’d never been in before. It was strewn with his clothes and books and empty glasses, and Nesta quickly realized that she was in his personal rooms, alone, that his parents and brothers were likely out, and panic hit her.  
  
The rest was a story of assault and resistance that Nesta hadn’t thought about in ages. The last time had been when she hinted to Cassian what had passed between them, and then she’d felt a small amount of release.  
  
Now, Nesta realized she hadn’t found nearly as much closure as she’d thought.  
  
A drawing room off the main ballroom found Nesta and Cassian catching their breaths and taking a drink from the flutes they had grabbed from a nearby tray.  
  
“So, Tomas,” Cassian said.  
  
“In the flesh,” Nesta answered.  
  
“Do you want me to do anything to him?” Cassian stood by the chair Nesta had seated herself in, his hand resting on its back. “Perhaps they need a reminder about who is in their midst. The mighty Cassian Archeron, come to-“  
  
Nesta cut him off. “No, it’s fine. I think it’s time they remember who I am, what they did.”  
  
“More threats, Nesta?” A voice came from the doorway, and Nesta stood as Cassian turned to look at Tomas. “I remember you being full of those, before. But not much follow-through.”  
  
The buttons on Tomas’s vest strained, a sign of how much he took from his undoubtedly-starving subjects. Nesta should have known he wouldn’t turn out any differently from the others. At the time, it had seemed a small price to pay, for security. To know when her next meal would come, and how she would stay warm in the winter. Now, she realized that there was little security to be had with a man whose whims didn’t account for the harm they caused.  
  
“Tomas.” Nesta’s voice was cool. “So, you are married. Send my sympathies to your wife.”  
  
“Sympathies? For what?” Tomas’s brow furrowed.  
  
“For being married to you, of course.”  
  
Tomas took one step towards Nesta, then another. He looked to Cassian for warning signs, and Nesta chuckled. “Do you really think he’s the one you should be worried about?”  
  
Tomas kept walking until he was face-to-face with Nesta, and Cassian took a step away, to better observe the outcome of a male so foolish as to challenge his wife and mate.  
  
“Avoiding confrontation, Cassian? I thought you were a great warrior.” Tomas sneered and turned back to Nesta. “And you. You may have gotten all this power, but what do you do with it? Diplomacy? It’s for those who aren’t strong enough to force their will on others.”  
  
Without blinking, Nesta lifted an arm and slammed Tomas into the wall, her forearm across his throat and his face pressed to the intricate wallpaper. He stuttered in confusion, then frowned when he realized that it was her who had pinned him there, not Cassian.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“You always were a horrid little man, Tomas. I’m just sorry I didn’t see it sooner,” Nesta crooned. “But luckily, we have plenty of time to show you how sorry you can be.” He hadn’t noticed that one of his arms was behind him, twisted into an unnatural angle, until Nesta pulled on it, ever so slightly. Tomas howled.  
  
Tomas looked to Cassian, straining himself to make eye contact. “Stop her, damn you!”  
  
Cassian crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “What do you expect me to do?”  
  
Thomas sputtered and Nesta flinched slightly as his spittle landed on her dress. “Take care of your woman, for once,” he said to Cassian. “I thought you fae were brutes. Don’t you keep better control of them?”  
  
His last words - _control of them_ \- came out of his throat in a strangled garble as Nesta applied pressure with her forearm. She nearly pulled away at the memory of his hands on her, pressing her against another wall, in another room, a world away.  
  
“What are you going to do? You can’t hurt me.”  
  
“Oh,” Nesta said, her voice soft and soothing, “But we can. And we will. However, you are useful to us as you are. Important enough to bend Mr. Rothschild’s ear. But not so important that disposing of you will be any great inconvenience.”  
  
“What do you want?” Tomas’s voice was the picture of trepidation. Nesta would have smiled at it, to see him so weak, but no… that’s not why she was here. That’s not what she needed to happen.  
  
“Repeat after me,” she said. “You are going to agree with me on every point.”  
  
Tomas was silent, so Nesta applied more pressure, twisting his arm just a bit more. His face turned purple and he was forced to nod because speaking was out of the question.  
  
“And you are going to do what is in the best interest for all of your people, including those who are poor, and dirty, and hungry.”  
  
“And,” Tomas said, defeat in his sagging posture, “I will do what is in the best interest of all my people, including those who are poor, and dirty, and hungry.”  
  
“You will agree to all of our recommendations to Mr. Rothschild.”  
  
“I will agree to all of your recommendations to Mr. Rothschild.”  
  
“And support them vigorously, if he seems inclined to disagree.”  
  
“I will support your recommendations vigorously, if Mr. Rothschild seems inclined to disagree with them.”  
  
“And you will never, ever, touch another person without their explicit consent.”  
  
Tomas paused, as if just realizing why he found himself in his current predicament. “And I will never, ever touch another person without their explicit consent.”  
  
Nesta released his arm, but kept his throat to the wall. A vein of revulsion ran through her at being in such close proximity, but she felt Cassian’s eyes at her back, and knew that he supported every decision she would make.  
  
“If you breathe a word of this, to anyone, I will kill you. I will know, and I will be there a minute later, with death in my heart. And I will not regret a moment of it. I will revel in your death, and swim in your blood. They say in the Night Court, that those who vanquish their enemies are revered above all others. I’ve never tried it out before.”  
  
She released Tomas and he stumbled away, his legs barely able to keep him upright. He rubbed his throat, staring first at Nesta, then at Cassian. He looked as if he were going to say something, but thought better of it.  
  
Once they were sure he was gone, Cassian turned to Nesta. “Swim in his blood?”  
  
“Oh, you know. These humans will believe anything you tell them.”  
  
“How are you feeling?” Cassian reached up to Nesta’s back and massaged her neck.  
  
Nesta finished her drink and set the glass on a table. “Much better.”


End file.
